An Act of Persuasion

by Stephanie Doyle

  “This isn’t about our baby’s DNA. This is about you, Anna. What do you want? What possible outcome could there be to finding out about whoever these people are? These people who left you. The baby is coming. And I’m here. Let us be your family.”

  *

  ANNA COULDN’T RESPOND. The fear inside her was suddenly paralyzing. Her stomach felt tight and her mouth was so dry she thought she could drink a pool filled with water. He was asking too many questions. She didn’t want to think about why finding her parents was important. She didn’t want to say why she was keeping him at bay.

  She couldn’t believe he sensed something was wrong. How clever she thought she was going through the motions, thinking he was fine with her level of commitment. She actually started to believe that she could make this arrangement work permanently. He could move in and she could have all the comforts and joy of having him here but still hold a little of herself back. As long as she didn’t give him everything, as long as there was something that was still hers and not his, then it didn’t matter if he left.

  Or if in the end he didn’t love her the way she loved him. Or whatever it was that she was afraid of.

  But now it was Ben who wanted more. Ben…the guy who wasn’t supposed to know what real love was all about. She’d gone from despairing that he would ever feel the way she wanted him to feel about her, to being content with what he was willing to give her because it meant she didn’t have to give as much to him.

  Only now he was changing the game and every instinct she had said to run.

  Fast before he catches you.

  Except an eight-months-pregnant woman wasn’t running anywhere. Which only left her one other option. She needed him to leave. And to accomplish that she needed to start a fight she could win.

  “See? There you go again changing the topic. You think I don’t know you? You think I can’t tell when you’re being purposefully vague. The fact that you have to play that game means one of two things. Either you already have the information I want and you’re withholding it from me for some reason, or you chose not to go looking for it after I asked you to. And what about Mark? Is he in on this? He told me he was working another case, but maybe that’s a lie, too. Maybe you’re working together to hide the truth from me.”

  “It’s not a conspiracy, Anna. You’re becoming paranoid.”

  Paranoid. Furious. Righteous. Whatever it took to start the fight. “Oh, so this is in my head? You’ve had that birth certificate for four months but you’re telling me you haven’t learned anything? Nothing at all?”

  She watched him close his eyes and knew he was deciding how to tell her only what he wanted her to know without actually lying to her.

  “I have information, but you’re going through a lot right now. I don’t know if this is the best time…”

  He served up that concession like a softball. How easy this fight was going to be. Part of her felt bad because she knew it wasn’t the truth about her parents she was needling him for. It was only the fight she wanted.

  She remembered arguing with him the night before taking him to the hospital to have the stem cell transplant. She remembered feeling as though she was fighting for her life as well as his. She remembered with such vivid clarity how her heart felt as if it would burst from her chest when he’d apologized for making love to her.

  This was totally different. This time she was in control. This time he was the one who would feel the pain. This time she would be in the driver’s seat. She had a reason now. He’d kept something from her. And he had no defense. It would be her best opportunity. Calmly and with a few moments to gather her poise, she eased off the bed so she could stand face-to-face with him.

  If she was going to do this, she should at least be on her feet.

  “How dare you? How dare you presume to tell me what I can or cannot know about my parents? My past!”

  “Anna, please. I was trying to protect you.”

  Of course he was. Because that’s what Ben did. His natural instinct was to shield and protect. He did it because he cared for her. But that caring was too much. So much it was tearing her apart from the inside. She had only one recourse left.

  “Protect me? I’ve been on my own since I was six years old. I know how to protect myself. I didn’t need you then and I don’t need you now. You thought we could have a relationship? A committed, serious relationship when all this time you’ve been lying to me? We have nothing.”

  She could see he was stunned. Not prepared for the violence of her attack or the anger in her voice.

  He held up his hands as if in surrender. “Okay. Okay, if that’s what you want, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  No, that wouldn’t do. She didn’t want his capitulation. Handing over the information was too easy an out for him. Finding out whatever terrible thing he knew about her parents—because he would have tried to shield her from the knowledge only if it was terrible—was nothing compared to holding on to his deception and heavy-handedness as a weapon she could use to drive him away.

  “No, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. If you found them, Mark will find them. I’ll get what I need from him. You need to leave now.”

  “Anna…”

  Pain. Real pain. She’d hurt him with her last jab and she could see it in his face. He would learn to live with it. She’d been let go of and abandoned all her life. Eventually a person becomes numb to the agony and the questions. You had to in order to survive. Then a person learned to let go first.

  “I’m serious. I can’t deal with this. With you.”

  “Please, let’s talk about this. I didn’t mean to hurt you or upset you. You’ve been very emotional—”

  “Really? Let’s recap. I’m paranoid. I need to be protected. I can’t handle the truth about my past. I’m emotional.” She counted the items on her fingers. “Who the hell do you think you are? I asked you for help. I wanted you to tell me where I came from. Who I was. And you know but you won’t tell me because you think you know what’s better for me? Screw you.”

  “Anna—”

  “Are you going to get out or does this have to get ugly? I mean it. I’m eight months pregnant and I don’t think I can handle this kind of stress.”

  The perfect thrust. He would feel it right through his chest. Because he couldn’t stay and fight with her knowing that he might put her or the baby at any risk. He had no choice now. He had to leave. She’d done it.

  “Please don’t do this. Please.”

  The trick was not to feel anything. That was the problem. In these past few months he had made her feel too much. What she needed was control over her emotions. Ben would appreciate that. He was a man who understood control.

  “I’ll text you if there is any information you need to know after my appointment tomorrow. Then after a few days and we’ve calmed down, we can talk about the plan for the birth. Then discuss custody options for after it’s born.”

  He swallowed. “We shouldn’t call it it.”

  He walked into the closet. A few moments later he emerged wearing jeans, a T-shirt and a pair of old sneakers she’d told him needed to be replaced even though he liked the way they fit his feet. Such a wifely thing, she thought, to care about the condition of the sneakers he wore. Yes, ending this relationship now was the right thing. She hadn’t realized how close she’d been to completely succumbing.

  He grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand and stuffed it in his pocket. He didn’t look at her. He simply left without saying another word.

  She watched him walk out of the bedroom and waited until she heard the sound of the downstairs door closing. The front door of the house he bought for her because he wanted to make sure if he died, she always had a home of her own.

  That’s who she had pushed away. That’s who she’d forced out of her home. Because she hadn’t known until this very moment that she couldn’t cope with all of the things he wanted to give her.

  A husband. A baby. A family. A lif
e.

  Her body started to shake and she reached out for the bed. Sitting on the edge she concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths and tried to gain control of her body.

  You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.

  The words came to her and she thought about what she’d survived before and how much more capable of surviving she was now. Weren’t those the exact words she’d thought when she was six, lost in a room with people all around her, bumping into her, not seeing her? Knowing instinctively that the person she needed most was gone.

  After a few breaths the spots before her eyes faded and she decided it was safe to stand. She wouldn’t risk hurting herself or the baby and, as unsteady as she felt, she knew she had to be extra cautious.

  But she needed a glass of water. Her mouth was beyond dry. Then she would try to sleep. Tomorrow would be soon enough to think about what she’d done and start the process of denying to herself why she had done it.

  When she stood she felt a warm stickiness between her legs. Turning, she saw the stain of fresh blood on the mint-green duvet she and Ben had picked out together.

  Panic immediately surfaced. What was happening? Was she in labor? But she didn’t hurt. Did her water break? Was that supposed to be bloody? She didn’t think so. And it was too soon. Only thirty-six weeks. She wasn’t ready.

  Mentally digging deep she locked down the panic and started thinking logically. There was blood, not amniotic fluid. She was not in pain and it was too soon for labor. Something was wrong. Phone.

  There was no phone upstairs. Either she or Ben always had a cell phone with them. Ben was gone. She’d sent him away. He’d taken the phone with him. Her phone was downstairs.

  Thoughts started to coalesce.

  Downstairs. Phone. 911.

  Downstairs. Phone. 911.

  It became a mantra. When she took a step forward, she could feel more blood rush. She couldn’t do this. The baby would fall out. Something was happening and it was coming too early. She couldn’t move. She needed to stay still.

  Ben!

  No. Ben was gone. She’d pushed him away.

  Think. Downstairs. Phone. 911.

  Wadding up the nightgown between her legs, she tried to press them together and walk at the same time. She reached the top of the stairs and stopped. She felt dizzy and wouldn’t risk walking down them until she knew she was under some control mentally.

  This happened every time you gave blood at the hospital when Ben was getting his chemo treatment. Heck, you get dizzy on day two of your period if you don’t drink enough orange juice. There’s not that much blood. There’s not that much blood.

  She could do this. It would be okay. She would get to the hospital and they could put her on bed rest and give her juice and then she would be fine and the baby would be fine.

  The sound of the front door slamming startled her.

  “This is horseshit! I don’t care what you say. I’m not leaving you. I’m never leaving you. We are going to figure this out so you better accept that and— Anna. Oh, my God!”

  He came back. She’d pushed him away but then he came back. That was good. Because she really needed him right now.

  How silly she’d been. Of course, he wouldn’t leave her. Ben would never leave her.

  It was the last thing she thought before she fainted.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  MARK STOPPED WHEN HE SAW BEN. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen Ben covered in the blood of a fallen comrade. But knowing whose blood it was made Mark tremble inside.

  The call had been almost undecipherable. Mark had been jarred awake by the sound of a ringing phone. When he answered he was thinking that it might be Sophie on the other end. What if she was hurt? What if she needed him? He’d been unprepared for the hoarse, nearly raspy voice of Ben saying that Anna was in trouble.

  Cautiously, Mark approached Ben who was currently bent over, his head in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees.

  The closer Mark got the stronger the smell of Anna’s blood became.

  “Ben.”

  Ben startled as if he’d been unaware where he was. Or who he was. Or what had happened. He looked at Mark quizzically as if he didn’t remember calling him and didn’t remember that he’d asked Mark to come because he didn’t know who else to call and he needed someone with him. Someone who would understand.

  Mark sat next to Ben and thought of a time when they’d lost three operatives and two special forces agents in what was supposed to have been a routine information gathering assignment across the border of Pakistan into Afghanistan. The party had been ambushed. All of them killed. Mark remembered the way Ben had looked then, as if the responsibility of the world sat on his shoulders…and he’d failed to uphold it. That expression was nothing compared to how he appeared now.

  Now, in this moment, he looked as though he’d been ambushed. As though he’d been killed.

  Mark thought of Anna and tried to contain the sick feeling in his stomach that something was horribly wrong. Ben hadn’t been coherent enough to explain the situation. Had only said that she was in danger. When Mark had checked at the admissions desk, they had told him she was still alive. They couldn’t give him any details of her condition, but they could give him a status.

  Critical.

  “Ben, what happened?”

  Dazed, Ben leaned back in the chair. “Placenta abruption? I couldn’t understand everything they were saying. It was so fast. Her blood pressure was high, they said, and there was a partial separation. It caused her to bleed. She was bleeding so much. They did an emergency C-section.”

  Mark swallowed. “The baby?”

  Ben looked at him, his eyes unfocused. “I haven’t named her yet. I want Anna to do it. The doctor said she’s small at four and a half pounds, but her lungs are fully formed. She’s in the NICU unit now. But I don’t want to see her yet. Not until I can see her with Anna.”

  He seemed defensive about that. The nurses had probably already asked him if he wanted to see his daughter and he’d felt guilty for refusing. Mark understood though. He knew that if Ben saw his daughter without Anna by his side, he would have to acknowledge she was still in danger.

  “Okay.”

  “She was hemorrhaging so much. They said the blood loss caused her to go into shock. But they’re replacing it now. Transfusion.” He laughed harshly and held out his blood stained arms. “They wouldn’t let me give blood. I couldn’t even do that.”

  Mark took a deep breath. “Downstairs they said her status is critical.”

  “She’s in a coma,” Ben said, sounding as if he had to push the word out of his mouth. “The shock was too much. She didn’t wake up after the general anesthesia wore off. They don’t know— They don’t know anything at this point.”

  The sick feeling that had been in Mark’s stomach since he received Ben’s call turned to dread.

  “She’ll wake up,” Mark said optimistically. She had to. Because he didn’t think Ben would survive if she didn’t. The man who had always been so calm under pressure, so cool under fire, was, simply put, unhinged. Like he’d lost his grip on the world. Yeah, he sat here, his jeans stiff with blood, but he wasn’t really part of the world around him.

  “High blood pressure. We were fighting. I caused this. I can’t believe we were fighting this close to—”

  Mark grabbed his arm. “Don’t. You can’t start playing the ‘what if’ game. This happened. The baby survived. Anna will wake up. You’ll get through this. You need to stay focused on what is and not on what might have been.”

  Ben nodded, but Mark could tell his words weren’t penetrating.

  They sat for a time and the nonaction was killing Mark. He should be doing something. Helping Ben in some way. Calling family…although he knew neither Ben nor Anna had any. Anna was Ben’s family. And Ben was hers. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to them.

  “Did you find her parents?”

  The question startled Mark out of his thoughts. He thought
about the path he’d followed after Marge had told him about the other man who had come in inquiring about fake names on a birth certificate. Like Ben had, he was sure, Mark found the records of those who had been admitted for delivery without insurance on the day Anna was born.

  A young girl, no more than eighteen years old, had experienced complications during delivery and had to have an emergency C-section. Because the child had been sent to the NICU and the mother needed additional care the father had been responsible for giving the hospital all the information needed for payment and, of course, the paperwork for the birth certificate.

  Not only had those names been fake, but so had the address he’d listed. The only thing he must not have realized is that when the pregnant girl had first been admitted, she had given her real name: Jennifer James.

  From there, tracking down Jennifer hadn’t been difficult at all. The story Mark eventually found in the papers six years after Anna was born explained why Ben hadn’t wanted to tell Anna anything about her parents. Mark had planned to set up a meeting to confront Ben about it. They couldn’t hide the truth from Anna. It wasn’t fair.

  “You should have told her when you found out. Why did you go looking anyway?”

  Ben cupped his face in his hands as if trying to support the weight of his heavy head with something besides his neck. He sighed and then finally straightened. “I don’t know. We’d been working together for a few years. She never mentioned much of her past but I knew she’d been in foster homes. For some reason I wanted the information. You know me, when I get that idea in my head nothing can stop me. I told myself we were working with the government on several contracted projects and, security clearance issues aside, I should have more intelligence on my staff. It made sense.”

  Mark shook his head, not believing someone so smart could be so obtuse. “Ben, you wanted to know more about her past because you wanted to know more about her. You had been falling for her for years, you just wouldn’t admit it to yourself.”

  He made a harsh sound. “Falling for her. What a ridiculous phrase. Something so…powerful…to be described with a euphemism a teenager might use. I wasn’t falling for her. I was…in need of her. That was what I denied myself. That she was different than any other woman I had ever known and I needed her like I needed to breathe. I thought…I thought if I could give her her past it would change something between us. But the story— It was so awful. I didn’t want her to know. You saw?”